


Love Me in the Fade Out

by LivefromG25



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Timothee *said* he had a funny story... (The tweets are the only non-fictional part of this)You don't have to be tri-lingual for this - I wrote it and I am barely lingual. Hopefully it will make sense contextually, otherwise... see you on google translate :)For Moni; "Wouldn't it be funny if the story was about his hair?". Thank you for being epic beta. Sorry I wreck your head.****UPDATE: Chapter two added 03.11.18****





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**________________**

 

**Timothée Chalamet✓ @RealChalamet ⠐30 May**

finding my way , something is guiding me

 

**Armie Hammer✓ @armiehammer ⠐30 May**

You are 10 times more likely to get bitten by a New Yorker than a shark. #facts

 

**Armie Hammer✓ @armiehammer ⠐30 May**

The drought is over!! Thank god! Timmy Tim your tweets give me life!!

 

**Timothée Chalamet✓ @RealChalamet ⠐30 May**

aaaarrrmmmiiieeee

 

**Timothée Chalamet✓ @RealChalamet ⠐30 May**

dude I’m ringing you now have a funny story for you

 

**Armie Hammer✓ @armiehammer ⠐30 May**

You’ve been in London too long if you are saying “ringing”! Get back to NY so we can hang.

 

_________

 

Armie grins at his screen with a soft shake of his head. He could feel his heart racing, the way it always did when they pretended like this. The constant social media game play as if he hadn’t been on the phone already to Timothée earlier that day.

 

They’d been reminiscing about Crema; somehow it always came back around to it, neither of them really straying too far, always in touching distance of what brought them together in the first place. No matter the new projects, no matter how much time had passed, it was their touchstone. A safe place they would always return to to find themselves. To find each other.

 

This time the conversation had revolved around their apartment wrestling matches, prompted by a show Armie was watching on the Nat Geo channel.

  

 

> _“Did you know, you’re 10 times more likely to be bitten by a New Yorker than a shark?”_
> 
> _Timothée laughed, the sound a warm embrace. “Are you making that up? Is this because I bit you that one time?” _
> 
> _“Tim, it was at least one time_ _everytime_. _”_
> 
> _Timothée huffed down the phone. Armie could feel the pout of his lips from miles away. “Well, what choice did I have? Have you_ _ever been pinned down by a giant?”._

 

Armie grinned at the memory; it hadn't taken long for those bites of self preservation to transition into foreplay.

 

His phone lights up, dragging him back to the present, Kid Cudi announcing Timothée’s phone call. He slides the green icon across as his smile widens.

 

“Dude, ‘ringing’? Really?”

 

“Hey, don’t start. You caught me out by replying, I got excited”.

 

“Hmm, you’re not the only one. Fuckin’ heart-eyeing me and thinking you’ll get away with it”

 

“Ooh, is that tone bordering on _threatening,_ Mr Hammer?”

 

“Maybe. Depends. Will you use your mouth on me to get out of it?”

 

Timothée’s giggling response is response enough.

 

“So, tell me, what's this story you have for me that you didn’t have a couple of hours ago when we spoke?”

 

“Oh, yeah. It is _quite_ the recent event, though I knew it then too. I think you’ll find it pretty hilarious”

 

“Go on…”

 

“Actually, it probably needs some context. Maybe you had to be there. It probably only works if I can show you”

 

“Ok? Send me a pic?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Suddenly the line went dead. Armie looks at his phone in confusion, guessing Timothée had hit a wrong button whilst trying to send him the picture. And youth of today are supposed to be good at multitasking.

 

There’s a soft knock on his apartment door and he glances once more at his phone with a frown as he gets up to answer it. Surely…. not?

 

Pulling open the door, Armie stands frozen, his face caught halfway between confusion and joy. Timothée nonchalantly leans against the doorframe, his eyes shadowed by the cap on his head, his mouth twisted into a soft smirk.

 

There is something different about him, as if he is younger almost. The confusion on Armie’s face wins out as he studies him.

 

“Not going to let me in?”

 

Armie steps back wordlessly as Timothée pushes himself away from the door frame and saunters into the room. He turns standing casually, watching Armie appraise him, his expression one of tampered excitement.

 

“You look….” Armie starts, hesitantly. Suddenly he is struck by a strong sense of de ja vu; late nights sneaking into each others apartments, needless rehearsals, whispers in the dark; French, Spanish, Italian…

 

“ _Sembri... Elio”._

 

Both the penny and his face drop at the same time. Timothée, sensing the change, whips his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small while envelope.

 

“ _Regalo_. For you.”.

 

Armie stalls for a second before taking the envelope from him. He starts to shake his head. “No, no, nononono”. He glances at the contents before bringing a hand up to his mouth. “What the fuck have you done?”.

 

Timothée grins at him and nods towards the envelope. “What? You don’t want it?”

 

Blinking back treacherous tears - where the fuck did they come from? - Armie removes a bound lock of hair from the envelope, before dropping the white paper to the floor. He caresses the silky strands, twirling them around his index finger.

 

“I asked them to save that one specifically”, Timothée began, his voice switching from taunting to tender. “I know that curl was your favourite”.

 

Armie can’t stop staring at the crop of hair between his fingertips. He would know this curl anywhere. He had spent nearly a year watching Timothée push it out of his face time and time again only to have it fall back in front of his eyes as if it had a will of its own. He himself had brushed this particular lock off Tim’s forehead many a time too, usually late at night, a prequel to a kiss, a blowjob intermission, sweaty post-coital bonding.

 

“Take it off.”

 

Timothée bites his lip with a grin. “Wow, you wanna go fast today, huh?” he teases as he starts to unbutton his trousers, kicking off his gucci trainers.

 

“Stop it, Tim.” Armie’s voice is rough, deep. Timothée recognises the tone, Armie is _not_ in the mood to play. He sheepishly refastens himself before taking a deep breath, the peak of his cap between his fingers.

 

Slowly, agonisingly, he slips the cap off his head, his other hand instantly rushing to flatten down the hair with his palm. He rubs the back of his head before winding his hand around his throat. He leaves it there, collaring himself, looking down at the floor for a couple of beats. When Armie doesn’t speak, he tentatively raises his eyes to meet Armie’s gaze.

 

Armie feels like all of the air in the room has suddenly been sucked out without warning. Unable to focus, his eyes dart from Timothée’s accentuated crystal clear gaze, framed by short bangs, to the large expanse of… _free space_ between his hairline and the tips of his ears. Space that is slowly turning pink under his scrutiny.

 

He cautiously reaches forward, his fingertips skirting around Timothée’s right ear. He looks at him questioningly and Timothée nods almost imperceptibly. Armie returns to studying the bald scalp beneath his fingers, slowly caressing the back of Timothée’s hair-free head, the slight regrowth causing his palm to tingle.

 

Before he can wrestle his emotions about this new look- this insane looking short pudding bowl hairstyle that repulses him to the point of arousal- Timothée’s eyes slip closed and he moans into Armie’s touch.

 

“Mmm, that feels… amazing”, his head falling heavily into Armie’s palm, a soft gasp escaping his open lips.

 

Armie glances between the lone curl in his right hand and the almost boneless boy in his left. Timothée’s eyes flutter open as Armie opens his mouth to speak.

 

“Well, it _looks_ fucking ridiculous.”

 

Timothée giggles softly, twisting his head to kiss the heel of Armie’s hand, his wrist, his forearm, curling into him chasing his lips. Armie kisses him back, one eye open as he reaches towards a side table, laying his momento down gently. Both hands now free, he cradles Timothée’s head, holding him in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance into Timothées mouth.

 

His lips move to his jawline, down his neck, Timothées whole body arching backwards with desire. Armie holds him still as he lands soft, butterfly kisses below his ear, walking slowly around him, his lips grazing the nape of his neck.

 

He steps back taking in the back of Timothées head, the inch of dark chestnut hair at the crown, the pale, pale skin a stark contrast,leading down to where Armies hands hold him gently. He leans forward, inhaling deeply as the short strands of hair tickle his nose. Timothée drops his head forward with a deep sigh as Armie begins to kiss his way down the back of his head, his tongue lapping gently at his scalp.

 

Armie can feel himself harden, this sudden access to _more_ of Timothée a surprising turn on. No sooner has the thought registered, he feels a tentative hand grasp his erection, nimble fingers making short work of his button fly. Timothée twists his body, a slow, lazy grin on his face, one hand working Armie free of the confines of his clothes.

 

“Ridiculous, huh? Funny, it seems your cock would disagree. I guess I'll continue this conversation with your more sensible head.”

 

Armie exhales sharply as Timothée drops to his knees, pulling his trousers with him, swiftly taking the tip of his cock in between his open, wet lips.  As he makes the automatic reach for phantom curls, Armie notes a pang of upset, low in his stomach. He brings his hands to the sides of Timothée’s neck instead, watching as he takes more and more of him into his mouth, the feeling slowly dissolving into lust.

 

Timothée glances up at him just as he reaches the base of his cock, his own lips forced wide, his breathing laboured.

 

Armie meets his gaze with a pained groan; for all he loved the curls, for all he wants to bury his fingers into them and control his thrusts into Timothées eager mouth, he is struck by just how beautiful the vision below his waist is. For the first time in months he can see _everything:_ the emerald sparkle in Timothées eyes, the hollow of his cheeks, the slight pulse at his temple, his lips wrapped around him, the flick of his tongue around the base... It's overwhelming. All of these details he has missed out on for so long; so used to looking into a mass of ringlets, his stomach and upper thighs being assaulted with each thrust.

 

 _This_. This view is so much more. He pulls back slightly, giving Timothée some slack. Timothée grins suggestively, knowing that he has him now. He drops his gaze and takes him right back down to the root as Armie’s head falls back, one hand running through the crop of Timothée’s hair, almost revelling in the feeling of the short strands falling between his fingers.

 

Releasing Armie’s cock from his mouth, Timothée slowly continues to work him with one hand as he brings the other to his lips. Sucking slowly on his index finger, he coats it with a generous helping of saliva. He can tell from Armie’s quick breaths and tightening balls that this is not going to be one of his more tantric performances.

 

He enjoys this feeling of _power,_ this _newness._ It has been a long time since Armie got this worked up so quickly; he thinks back to the last time, when he had arrived in Toronto, soft curls framing his face. Armie had taken one look at him and marched him straight into the nearest bathroom. _Bonjour, Timothée_.

 

Armie lets out a soft hiss as Timothée begins to gently tease his entrance, widening his stance to give him more room. Timothée feels the vibration of his moan as he takes him back into his mouth and breaches him in tandem.

 

“Fuck, Timo, _Ahh_..”

 

Pressing up as deeply as he can. Timothée works his tongue around the head of Armie’s cock, slipping it in and out of his mouth with skilled precision, knowing exactly how much pressure he likes, and where. How to bring his lover to his metaphorical  knees.

 

Almost incoherent, it is only moments later when Armie reaches down and taps Timothée lightly on the shoulder; _I am going to come_. Timothée instantly pulls back, standing up before Armie is past the point of no return. He doesn’t want him to come yet, not before he gets what he came for.

 

Confused as to why he would stop, Armie frowns, watching as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small sachet.

 

Armie raises his hand to cradle Timothée’s head, seemingly unable to resist touching it. “You keep lube in your pocket now?” he manages, roughly, as Timothée drops his own trousers and steps out of them with a grin.

 

“Only when I am visiting you, _mon trésor_ ”, he purrs, bringing his body flush with Armies. He kisses him deeply before ripping the top of the sachet open with his teeth, handing it over to Armie with a raised eyebrow.

 

“ _Baise-moi. Fort.”_

 

With a growl, Armie turns, pushing Timothée towards the wall. He doesn’t need a second invitation, especially not when the first is in French. A love of languages had always been their love language.

 

Timothée braces himself on his forearms, legs wide, his pelvis tilted in offering.

 

As much as Armie would love nothing more than to take his time, his aching cock has other ideas. Knowing neither of them would survive prolonged foreplay, he drops straight to his knees behind Timothée, his tongue already seeking his entrance. Timothée exhales loudly, with a stamp of his foot, as Armie licks at him, his taste intoxicating. He works him open with his tongue as he applies a liberal coating of lube to his fingers, massaging it onto his cock.

 

Armie alternates between his tongue and a finger, softly probing at the tight muscle, enjoying the flutter as he pushes in, eliciting a steady stream of curse words.

 

Slowly kissing his way up his back, he pushes his t-shirt out of the way with his left hand as he adds another finger with his right. He leans over a panting Timothée, softly nipping at the back of his neck.

 

“You might _look_ different, but I would know the feel of you anywhere,”Armie murmurs as he enters a third, stretching him wide.

 

Timothée gasps, lightly punching the wall as he wantonly pushes back onto Armie’s fingers. His moans incessant, Armie continues to work him, his own cock leaking copious amounts of precome.  

 

To the chanting chorus of his name, Armie slowly removes his fingers. He lines his painfully erect cock up against Timothée’s entrance, not wanting to leave his boy begging.

 

“You ready for me, baby?”

 

“ _Oui,_ _prends-moi.”_

 

With one hand on the wall above Timothée’s head, Armie slowly enters him, pausing periodically when the sensation threatens to overwhelm either, or both, of them. They had gone way too long without _this_.

 

He grips Timothée’s hip tightly as he bottoms out. The feeling, the tightness, the heat, it is almost too much. Every time somehow like the first. He pauses, willing himself back from the precipice.  

 

Covering Armie’s hand with a squeeze, his nails cutting into the edge of his palm, Timothée issues a silent plea to _move_.  

 

Armie pulls back slowly, before driving in as Timothée shudders with a needy cry. He rests his forehead between angular shoulder blades, feeling the tremor beneath him as he gives silent worship to the erratic beat of Timothée’s heart.

 

“ _Cariño…_ Fuck, I've missed you _”_

 

Timothée groans and releases Armie’s hand, his fingers instead seeking their connection. As his hand brackets the cock buried deep inside him he hesitates with a soft _fuck_  before reaching further, lightly grabbing Armie’s balls. Armie trembles against him, biting down on the rucked up material of his t-shirt to silence himself as nimble fingers gently caress him, softly pulling, teasing, Timothée rocking his hips, taking control like he always does.

 

Armie knows this is going to end all too soon if he allows Timothée to continue, his small rocking having given way to deeper, needier impalements. He grips what little he can of his hair and pulls him  upright, forcing Timothée’s hand to release its hold as his body follows suit.

 

Gasping at the new angle, Timothée’s body stills now that his vantage point has been seized. Armie takes a second to catalog him; his mouth hanging open, his tongue edging the corner of his lips, eyelashes fluttering, his chest, neck and now _scalp_ flushed a beautiful crimson. Armie recognises the high; feeling like he is fucking someone _new,_ a stranger who remarkably sounds and feels just like his lover _. TIFF 2.0._

 

He slowly lets go of his hair, stroking his way to Timothée’s throat, keeping him close as he begins to fuck him harder, murmuring commands into his ear. Timothée braces himself against the onslaught, valiantly following orders, his hand unsteadily jerking himself off to meet Armie’s pace.

 

Armie can tell Timothée is as close as he is and, with a last playful bite to the soft skin at the nape of his neck, he pushes his upper body back towards the wall. Sweeping his hand underneath Timothée’s, he takes ownership of his cock, his large palm slipping up and over, up and over, dripping in precome. He massages the head, his thumb tracing his slit, Timothée bucking up into his fist, nowhere to escape.

 

“ _Mierda,_ ” “ _Merde,_ ” they laugh softly on an exhale as they jinx themselves, Armie’s thrusting speeding up, Timothée breathless and weightless in his grip.

 

“ _Acaba para mi, pequeño_ ”

 

No sooner has he said it, Timothée comes on a curse, ribbons of white coating Armie’s hand, his own stomach and the wall. With a last few harsh drives, his own orgasm hits,  his mind blank, all he can feel is Timothée pulsing around him, pulling every last drop as he pushes forward with a cry, crowding them both against the wall for support.

 

Neither of them move, breathlessness giving way only to the softest of euphoric giggles.

As they slowly come back down, Armie pulls out, his cock heavy and still semi-erect. Timothée moans gently, turning into Armie’s embrace.  

 

“ _Estas bien?_ ”

 

Dropping his head back against the wall, hips still canted towards Armie, he nods. He opens one eye with a lazy smile.

 

“ _C’etait incroyable_ ”

 

Armie grins and leans in, dropping another kiss to his bee stung lips. He runs a hand from Timothée’s shoulder to the crown of his head. He brushes his hair to one side and then the other, messing it up, flattening it out before finally raking his fingers through it and pulling gently.

 

“ _Es porque_ eres _increíble_ ”.

 

***


	2. Into The Arms Of Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night didn't end there, it would seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD LORD. If you would like any indication on a) how slow I am at writing or b) how fucked up my summer has been, this chapter began it's life on June 23rd. I know, right?
> 
> I was inspired to finish this today when Tim posted - and deleted, of course - his instagram story, clutching his head and stamping it with the date I set this fic in. Forever to be remembered from here on out as bowl cut day. So - thank you Tim for the aided inspiration.
> 
> In second part, the reference to a certain solo artist was, back in June, intended as a gifted nod to @iknowthebattle. While it is still her gift, who knew that HS would have been so fully initiated into fandom by the time I posted this. So - thank you Tim for the aided inspiration. 
> 
> Lastly - this fic is a MESS of elements. I am just going to own this now as my 'style' and pretend it is meant to be that way. Much like with everything I post, I will probably desire to take it down and edit the crap out of it later... I won't though because - see point a). 
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> p.s. friendly reminder I don't speak French or Spanish so... this is likely atrocious.
> 
> ____________

Stepping out of the shower, Timothee grabbed a small, white towel from the handrail, swiftly rubbing it over his head, across his chest and, with a small tut at having forgotten to switch on the fan, across the large cloudy mirror before he wrapped it tightly around his narrow waist.

Looking directly into the mist-free streak he surveyed his head, twisting first to the right and then to the left, running his hands through the short crop. He let his fingers get caught, pulling the captured strands forward, watching them spring back, only just long enough to be showing a budding, valiant effort  at their trademark curl.

He sighed. Despite having had short hair his whole pre-Crema life, this was taking some getting used to. Unable to pinpoint why this cut was affecting him so much his mouth twisted into a grimace, his hands falling to his sides. Perhaps it was the severity of the shaved back and sides? The blunt edges?

Making eye contact with himself he felt a pang of gratitude that he has at least put on a bit of weight. He wouldn’t like to even imagine how he would look or feel about this had he still been so much lighter, a face full of angles.

He sighed again. Armie _definitely_ would have been harder to win around.

Speaking of - despite the warm welcome - Timothee wasn’t fully convinced Armie _did_ like it. If Timothee knew anything it was that, on Armie’s face, awe and repulsion could look a lot alike.  

His thoughts drifted to the lock of hair he’d gifted. Did Armie realise just what it meant to him? Sure, it was just hair but… it was more than that. It was Timothee’s only way of saying “I am still _me_ ”. The person he had become _for_ Armie. Moulding himself into what he hoped Armie could find desirable.

In fact, it had been a throwaway comment of Armie’s that had him grow it out in the first place. He knew there was a genuine attraction there, in Crema. That part had been undeniable. But Armie wasn't…. He hadn’t been ready to really face it. For it to be more than just that.

Not wanting to push him or manipulate him, Timothee let them exist in whatever given moment he had, taking the affection when it was offered and holding back when he sensed Armie was struggling at how close to the edge they were.

Timothee was not stupid and far from naive. He’d been around the block before, he knew that being on location made you reckless sometimes. The sense of being in a bubble, the almost anonymity of it all. The fact that no one would question if they both went back to the same apartment, not a word would be said if they showed up together again the next morning. Sure people may have suspected, but no one knew anything and Timothee liked that. He enjoyed what they had being secret, something between just the two of them.

Whatever _it_ was that they had.

But, he knew there was potential for it all to be over the moment his plane landed back in New York. He was surplus to requirements. There were no lonely nights anymore, no emotionally charged days to unwind from. They had never discussed what would happen when filming was over. For Timothee it was because he genuinely didn’t want to face it. He suspected for Armie it was more that he didn’t know. He barely seemed to know what they had when it was in front of him, let alone with time and distance to intervene.

But Timothee had wanted a way to test the waters. A safe way that he could gauge Armie’s continued interest without having to ‘out’ himself, without having to admit that he wanted more or that it had truly meant something to him.

The idea came - literally - knocking five nights before the end of filming  


____________

 

_Timothee had barely opened the door before Armie was pushing his way through, arms laden with pizza boxes, the smell of garlic and pepperoni, hot cheese and peppers following him into the small kitchenette._

_“I got you a plain one, don’t worry. But I also got a vegetarian and a meat lovers, just incase. Oh, and garlic bread. And ice-cream for after; pistachio, just for you.”_

_Armie busied himself looking for plates as Timothee stared at the sheer volume of food and then back at the doorway._

_“Are we expecting company? Dude, there is enough here to feed the five thousand…”_

_Armie threw a grin over his shoulder before handing Timothee a bottle of red wine._

_“Make yourself useful. Look, it might seem like a lot but I just had my last training session today. I have approval from Luca that I am free to gorge myself and_ Oliver _has been so damn fucking restrained. One egg! He knows himself!” Armie mocks with a laugh, before softly pushing Timothee out of the way to reach for two glasses._

_“I am going to take full advantage of being able to eat my weight in pizza. I would appreciate you joining me but”, he poked Timothee gently in the stomach, “this will all be gone whether you participate or not, my friend”._

_They'd settled in on watching Momento, having begun somewhat of a Nolan marathon once Armie had found out Timothee had been in Interstellar. They’d started with that, Armie revelling in watching Timothee squirm his way through; half fan boy over McConaughey, half his own worst critic._

_Halfway through the movie, Armie had gotten up to grab a fresh bottle of wine. He handed Timothee a topped up glass before stepping over his legs, arranging himself back on the couch, enveloped by cushions._

_“I think Nolan is currently filming a new movie around now too right?”_

_Timothee nodded, leaning forward to put the glass on the table as he swallowed the mouthful of wine he had just taken._

_“Mmm, yeah, a couple of guys I know have been cast. Well, know to see. I don’t_ know _know them”_

_Armie smiled, his cheek dimpling. “Then we are lucky you chose to come to Italy, then”. Despite the sincerity in his voice, Timothee rolled his eyes._

_“Yes, that was entirely my own choice, nothing to do with not being wanted.” he smirked softly at Armie, nudging his leg with his hand._

_“Did you see that guy from 1D is meant to be in it? He’s not even an actor!” Timothee put a hand to his chest in faux indignation._

_“Which?“_

_“The dude with the hair.” Timothee sat back, pulling his feet up onto the couch, turning to face Armie. “Or, rather, the one who used to have the hair. I saw on Twitter or somewhere that he chopped it all off. Makes sense I guess, for a war feature”_

_Armie nodded softly, gazing into his glass. “Oh, he did? Really? Shame.”_

_“Shame?” Timothee watched as Armie’s cheeks flushed slightly. This was an interesting turn._

_Armie cleared his throat. “Yeah. Shame. His hair was… Nice.”. He coughed again, darting a glance at Timothee. “You know, nice? Like, um, a cute girl.”_

_Timothee frowned, unsure what Armie meant by that. “You… you like guys with long hair?”_

_They stared at each other for what must have only been a moment but felt to Timothee more akin to a decade or two. Armie shifted, uncomfortable._

_“I like long hair.”_

_Timothee nodded slowly, biting his lip. He looked down at the hands in his lap, playing manically with the drawstring of his trousers. He took a deep breath before raising his head._

_“And guys?“_

_Armie held his gaze for a second before shyly looking away, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. He removed one of the smaller cushions he was leaning against and threw it towards Timothee, whose cat-like reflexes caught it just before it hit his face._

_They grinned at each other, no longer a need to state the obvious._

_“I like long hair.“_

 

____________

  


Timothee tiptoed back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of white trainer socks from his bag and slipping them on. He really disliked being barefoot for longer than necessary, the sensation of carpet could send chills up his spine, the coldness of a tile enough to set his teeth on edge. His mind flittered back to Crema as he padded towards the bed. How there had been times when he had stood on Armie’s feet to avoid the burning sensation of the hot ground, not wanting to accept shoes because he had no socks and he would rather burn his feet into stumps than struggle through the claustrophobic feeling of wearing a shoe against his bare toes.

Making his way to the foot of the bed, Timothee smiled to himself. The light from the open curtains cast a cool glow over the sleeping figure in front of him. He took his time taking in the detail; Armie face down, his head turned to the left, away from the window. His right arm crooked under his head, the left down by his side, palm upwards, fingers lightly twitching in his sleep. The white sheet covered only his left leg, bent under the fabric. Everything else - the subtle muscular curvature of his back, peachy ass, thick strong thigh, beautifully lean calf - was on full display, kissed softly by the moonlight..

Checking his watch; 3.21AM, Timothee weighed up his options. He could crawl in beside him and get another hour or so of sleep before he had to leave or he could really make the most of the remainder of their time together.

Was that even a question?

Kneeling one leg on the bed next to him, Timothee dropped the towel from his waist and leant down to run his tongue from behind Armie’s bare knee up to the curve of his ass, allowing himself a moment for a quick flick of his head, tongue lapping against the crease before he landed an open mouthed wet kiss to the peachy fullness of his cheek. He pushed away the sheet and repeated the action on the left hand side, earning himself a soft, low groan in response. He felt Armie’s hand move to grab his head and, as it made contact, felt the full shudder of the man beneath him as he tried to jerk out from under his mouth.

“Fuck!…. Tim!….. Jesus, for a second… “ Armie flopped back down on the bed huffing out a laugh. Timothee crawled up his body and lay across his back, wriggling his hips to allow his cock to nestle comfortably against Armie’s ass.

He lay his head on his shoulder, their lips almost touching.

“For a second, what?”

Armie cocked one eye open with a grin. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

“Your hair. I forgot it was gone… I thought… I thought you were someone else”.

Timothee giggled and ground his hips into Armies ass.

“What happened to “I’d know the feel of you anywhere”, huh? Did you just say that to keep me hard?”

Armie groaned, pitching forward to plant a quick kiss on Timothee’s pouting lips. “Plan foiled.”

Timothee raised himself up onto all fours before swatting at Armies ass, enjoying the resulting still sleepy moan before lowering himself again, biting softly on his shoulder.

“Well, I've an hour before I have to leave and I'm about to reacquaint you with the feel of me _everywhere_ so you don't fucking forget it again.”

Timothee licked and bit his way down Armies spine, pausing at the rising curve of his ass before resuming his wet mouthed kisses to the soft flesh. He sucked gently, grating his teeth with an appreciative moan.

“I fucking love your ass. It’s at least the second best thing about you.“

He glanced around the room for a second before jumping up, leaving Armie suddenly cold and bereft. Grabbing two pillows he quickly positioned them under Armies hips. Skipping over to his trousers, discarded in a heap on the floor earlier that night, he removed another sachet of lube from the back pocket. Eyes scanning the room he seized the belt from Armie’s hotel dressing gown and made his way to the head of the bed.

Throwing the lube down between Armies legs he softly stroked his shoulder, forcing him to turn his way. Armie opened one eye lazily, angling himself so that Timothee blocked the moonlight.

“Jesus” he croaked. “You're hard already.”

Timothee glanced down at his own body, his cock indeed hard _and_ ready.

“Youth. Lift up a second for me, babe”

Armie pushed himself up onto all fours and Timothee clambered into the bed between his arms, propping himself up against the pillows. They paused briefly for a slow, soft kiss before Armie pulled back, a question mark on his face.

“I'm going to bind your wrists. Figure that will teach you for nearly knocking my jaw out with your ass. Don’t wanna risk you forgetting who I am again.”

“Fuck”. Armie hated not being able to touch Timothee.

Timothee beamed. “And while I do that, you're going to blow me and it's going to be the best fucking effort you ever gave Hammer.”

Armie smirked, dropping from his propped hands to his elbows, drawing his wrists together above Timothee’s navel in offering. Without breaking eye contact he tenderly ran his tongue along the underside of Timothee’s cock.

“Yes, your _Majesty_ ”.

Timothee groaned as he was suddenly engulfed in the warm, wet cavern of Armie's mouth. He tipped his head back against the headboard, gripping onto Armies clasped hands, all thoughts of tying them lost for a moment.

Between breathless bursts, he managed to secure Armie’s wrists, eventually begging him to stop before he was past the point of no return.

As he shifted from under him, he planted a wet kiss to his lips.

“Your mouth is certainly fit for king. Thank you.”

Armie blushed, his cheek reddening in Timothee’s palm. It never ceased to amaze him how fast Armie could switch between cocky, self confident _seducer_ into this almost shy, vulnerable _seductee_. Timothee isn’t even sure if that is a word. He suspects it isn’t but then there are so many things that Armie is that he can’t put words to; he is eternally fascinated by his complexity.  

A couple of moments later and he is back astride him, watching as Armie tests his hands in the bonds, twisting his hands left and right.

“You’ve done a good job. I am sure this will be enough to keep you, and all your alter egos, safe”.

Timothee suddenly feels a little self conscious at the reminder.

“Armie, do you miss it?”

Armie stopped moving his hands, letting them come to rest as he turned his head towards Timothee. “Your hair?”

Timothee nods, cheek brushing against his shoulder, mouthing softly at the skin at the nape of Armie’s neck..

“A little?”, Armie paused, sighing contentedly as Timothee continued licking and biting at his flesh.

“It suits you though, being that short. Not that that is surprising. You were just as beautiful in Italy of course. But I don’t think anything prepared me for when you grew it out. That was fucking sexy.”

“Tell me about it…”

“About your hair?”

“About when you saw it. Talk me through it.”

“Ahhhh…” Armie caught the thread that Timothee was trailing. “You want a running commentary, I see, okay... “, Armie shifted again beneath him, bucking his hips up slightly, enjoying the friction of Timothee’s cock between his cheeks.

“Well, I can't say I really recall much _before_ the bathroom, if I am honest. Clouded in a mist of lust. seeing this guy walking towards me, messy curls atop his head. I remember thinking to  myself how soft they looked and how much I would like to wrap them around my hands, control his head while I fucked into his mouth….”

Timothee groaned, grinding his hips, working his cock against Armie’s soft skin.  “Keep going…”

“And before I knew it he was coming closer and closer and then he smiled at me and I-, well you know what happened then”

“Right, we’re in the bathroom. Then what happened?”

“Then I allowed myself the pleasure of running my fingers through your hair just like I’d desired”. Timothee mirrored the action with his own, his fingers winding into Armie’s soft, blonde strands, pulling gently.

“Like this?”

Armie groaned, nodded. “Mmm, yes. Just like that. Then I kissed you.”

Timothee tightened his grip to twist Armie’s head, allowing better access to his lips, his tongue slipping into the willing opening without hesitation. They kissed awkwardly, Armie not wanting to dislodge his passenger, unable to use his hands to hold him in place.

“Then what happened?” Timothee shifted off Armie’s body, flicking a hand against the soft skin of his hip. “Up.”

Armie resumed his all-fours position as best he could, his hands incapacitated as they were. He glanced down his body noting the glittering string of pre-cum anchoring him to the pillow beneath him.

“Then you grinned at me and asked, sweetly as fuck, if I liked long hair.”

A giggle. “Ah yes. Remind me how you answered.” Timothee skated a hand across the base of Armie’s spine.

“I took hold of your hand”, he paused as Timothee leant over, wrapping an arm around him, palm splayed across his stomach. He exhaled. “I took hold of your hand and put it on my cock” he groaned as Timothee did just that, panting, trying to calm himself as Timothee settled his grip.

“And said?”

“And said “If you knew what was good for you, you’d regret asking.” You just shook your head.”

Timothee started slowly stroking, his chest pressed against Armie’s back, enjoying the tremor he could feel run through the body beneath him. Armie growled before huffing out a laugh.

“Well, this part didn’t happen, fuck-”

They’d been interrupted in Toronto. A loud bang as the bathroom door had opened. Brian’s stern voice “Boys. Outside in 2”. They’d stepped back from each other, the moment broken but not destroyed - Armie still hard, Timothee riding on the wave of power. Interrupted, postponed but in no way ruined. They could wait.

After all, they were used to it.

But there was no reason to wait now. Quite the opposite in fact and Timothee took full advantage.

“No it didn’t. But it would have, wouldn’t it? I’d have unzipped you then and there, taken your beautiful cock out of your jeans and slid my way to the floor. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Armie slowly rocked himself into Timothee’s hand by way of answer.

“That’s right, good boy. You’d have made me take all of it, wouldn’t you? Hmm?” Timothee’s voice lowered as his hand slowed down. “Now I am going to make you take it, baby, okay?”

He moved off the bed, pulling Armie gently by the leg, shifting him towards the edge. He stood at the foot of the bed, re-positioning the pillows beneath Armie’s hips. He grabbed at the sachet of lube, one foot up on the bed by Armie’s hip. The stark white of his sock making Armie look even more tanned in the blue light of the room, Timothee hummed in admiration, taking in Armie’s perfectly presented position - his hips canted high, his chest flat against the mattress, arms above his head.  

He lubed them both up, spending more time dipping his long fingers in and out of Armie than was necessary. Both of them were pretty close to the edge, there wasn’t really the time - or requirement - for such extensive foreplay.

“Prêt, mon amour?” he slipped seamlessly into their routine.

“Si. listo”.

With that, Timothee lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock across Armie’s entrance, eliciting frustrated expletives. He wasn’t even sure which of them was uttering them but he decided to put them both out of their misery and pushed forward, his mouth falling open as he breached the first ring of muscle, watching with a sense of awe as he was, inch by inch, accepted into the heavenly heat of the body beneath him.

“OK?”  Timothee tore his eyes away from where they were joined, pulling out halfway before rocking forward. His eyes trailed up Armie’s spine, desperate to lick at the glistening sheen of sweat breaking out on his golden skin. Armie - too blissed out to speak - was giving him the thumbs up to continue so Timothee hopped slightly on his standing leg to get a better angle, gripping at Armie’s hips to change the angle of his thrusts, aiming himself deep into Armie’s pliant body.

It didn’t take long for Timothee to push Armie close to orgasm, his body undulating beneath him. He can see Armie is struggling with having his hands tied. He can picture it now, if Armie were loose his arms would be reaching back. trying to make purchase with Timothee’s hips, not quite sure if he wanted to pull him in closer, move him faster, stop him all together or some crazy combination of the three.

Timothee is sweating, his scalp prickling with the exertion. “Est-ce que tu aimes ça?”, he rolls his hips, his own breathing erratic.

Before getting an answer, he drops to his knee, leaning forward, placing a scatter of soft kisses on the smooth surface of Armie’s back.

“Mmmm… me puedes… Dámelo más fuerte?…”

Arching back gracefully, Timothee peels his body away. He revels in the drag of his skin, beads of sweat forced to choose sides. He runs his hands down Armie’s body as he pulls out completely. He brings his other knee up onto the bed, kneeling across the expanse of Armie’s thighs. Gently removing the pillows underneath him, careful not to drag too forcefully against the overly sensitive skin of Armie’s erection, he maneuvers into better position, nudging his way in between Armie’s legs, spreading them wide with his own.

He grips his cock, running his free hand over Armie’s ass as he pushes back in, groaning in tandem, He bottoms out again and takes a second to position Armie’s hips just how he wants them, an anchor point from which to increase the force of his thrusts.

Armie alternates between open mouthed gasps and deep moans as Timothee continues his assault, Armie’s thighs tense and shake as his lower legs, hovering off the end of the bed, try to make purchase with the floor, to aid the angle, to thrust back, to _participate_ , but every time he moves, Timothee changes angle, or depth or speed and he’s lost. He has no control of the outcome, this is all in Timothee’s hands.

Finally surrendering to it, Armie pushes forward instead, grinding himself into the mattress beneath him.

“Ah-, Fu-, Ah-, _Elio_...” He groans as the vibrations of Timothee’s resulting laugh run through him. Moving his hands from his hips, Timothee lies forward, covering the expanse of Armie’s back. The stretch and deepened angle result in another swift intake of breath. Timothee runs his tongue up the shell of Armie’s ear before breathlessly gasping;

“Oliver.”

“Mmmm, mierda…” Armie’s head drops forward on a low exhale. “Elio”.

“Oliver.”

Throwing his head back, his lips seeking Timothee’s, Armie almost sobs.

“Oliver”

With a growl and a soft bite to the soft flesh of Armie’s shoulder, Timothee too switches names with ease.

“Elioelioelio”

They’re both close. Armie bucks his hips back, forcing Timothee deep, both of them rushing towards a state of bliss they only experience together. Talking in languages the other isn’t fluent in, in their own worlds and yet completely together, joined on a higher plain.

“Estoy cerca _...Tim…”_

Timothee doesn't miss a beat, moving his right hand to Armie’s cock, increasing the speed of his thrusts,  his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Armie, c’est si bon…”

“Tim"

Timothee can feel Armie’s body tensing, his breath catching and experience draws him closer, covering Armie’s back like a security blanket to keep him grounded. He moves to grip Armie’s bound hands in his left, groaning his own name into Armies ear. “Oh _merde_ … _Tim_ ….”

At that, Armie finds his release, mumbling his own name into the mattress as his body rocks violently beneath Timothee’s.

“Ahh-va-… Vale… Vale…” As Armie pants through the aftershocks of his orgasm, Timothee quickly unties his hands before slowly pulling out. Armie weakly twists onto his back.

Timothee grips his cock, his own orgasm close. “Où est-ce que tu...?”

Armie grins, dazed and stunned. He raises himself onto his elbows before his right hand motions to his chest. His blue eyes are ablaze despite his stupor, his tongue dragging over his parched lips. Timothee shifts on his knees, moving up Armie’s torso before slowly leaning down to kiss him, working his cock as Armie trails his hands up the tender flesh of his thighs.

It doesn’t take long - the subtle nod of Armie’s head granting explicit permission - and Timothee is coming, their gazes never wavering. painting Armie’s chest in a design he’s pretty sure Pollock would be proud of. The thought and his release has him fall forward in a mass of giggles, his open mouth seeking out Armie’s.

As they passionately kiss, Timothee’s fingers glide through the mess on Armie’s chest before forcing their way between their lips - their tongues dancing together, sharing the result of their joint endeavour.

Eventually Timothee pulls away and rolls onto his back, his body thrumming despite his exhaustion. He pants softly, teetering on the edge of laughter with each exhale.

“Tim?”

Armie shifts onto his side, leaning over, a large hand brushing the sweat soaked strands off Timothee’s forehead.

“Yeah?” Timothee reaches up, strokes the side of Armie’s face.

“Just… I just want to say. Incase you’re worried... I really like long hair. “ He smiles down at Timothee who returns the smile before the words register and a flicker of apprehension crosses his face. Armie is quick to jump back in.

“I like long hair. But also - more importantly - I really like short hair.” he ruffles Timothee’s affectionately, reinforcing his point. “But even more importantly than that, it really doesn’t fucking matter. What happened between us, what _is_ between us, it wasn’t because you changed how you looked, you do know that, right?”

Timothee aims for confident indifference but he can tell his expression has widely missed the mark. Was he that obvious?

“It wasn’t?”

Armie grins, dropping his head to Timothee’s shoulder with a groan.

“No, you _fucking_ idiot. It happened because I realised after Crema how much I missed you. And much soul searching bullshit later came to the conclusion it wasn’t just as a friend. It had zero to do with how you looked, despite my fascination with it when I saw you”.

Timothee shifted closer, nuzzling in to Armie’s chest.

“Oh. So… it didn’t matter? You don’t care?”

“Nope. I mean, yes I am sad your curls are gone because they were hot as fuck and I am majorly appreciative you kept that one for me” he tilts his head over towards the table. “But they weren’t _you._ They were just…. just... _decoration_ on top of what was already a stunning piece of art.”

Timothee smiled, turning his head towards the mattress, embarrassed at the praise.  After a beat he looked back.

“Y’know, I really thought this day would forever haunt me, having been butchered like this. Thank you for making me feel better about it.”

Armie leant down and kissed him.

“Haircuts, roles, they’re just temporary. This,” he gestured between them, “this isn’t. It is my job to always make you feel better, okay?”

“Okay”. They smiled at each other, their eyes glittering in the moonlight.

“Speaking of making you feeling better, how much time have you got left?”

Timothee turned his head, squinting at his watch. “Urgh, fuck. 10 minutes?”

Armie captured Timothee’s raised hand and brought it above his head, a makeshift binding of his own.

“Hmm. Good. That’s plenty time.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from James Bay, as was Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Fade Out" by James Bay.  
> Twitter layout kindly borrowed from Between The Lines, however this work is not in the same universe :)  
> Originally only Armie was going to speak a language, but I switched it out for Timothee when I realised I had more French phrases. But, Armie had the audacity to go and tweet about some Spanish song on Twitter and here we are again, trilingual bi boys. :)  
> Muchas besos to the Harem.


End file.
